


How Friends Alone Can Feel

by dorkysetters



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crushes, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, M/M, Spin the Bottle, hurt comfort, implied crushes, no explicit relationships - Freeform, sleepover, tramau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 18:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20587274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkysetters/pseuds/dorkysetters
Summary: The Losers Club have their first (and only) sleepover.





	How Friends Alone Can Feel

**Saturday, 11:00 PM**

  
  


“Alright,” Richie started. He stood, hands on hips, next to his sleeping bag to address everyone else, who were already laying down in theirs. His baggy t-shirt and Star Wars-themed boxer shorts made him look softer than usual. “Bill’s mom’s finally asleep, so let’s get down to business. Who’s ready to compare wang size? Beverly, you can be the judge.”

“I’ll pass,” Beverly rolled her eyes from where she lay on the couch, snuggled under an old quilt. The living room was almost completely drenched in darkness; the dim kitchen light served as the groups only nightlight and barely surfaced to brighten the dining room right next to it, let alone the faraway living room. Ben had been the one to sheepishly suggest a sleepover, and Bill had been quick to volunteer his house. Everyone, even Beverly had been eager to come. And so Bill had raced home as soon as he knew his parents would be home from work and fought for half an hour to win Beverly’s right to join the party. 

“Mom, she’s just a f-f-friend. Like Stan or Ben,” Bill argued. 

“It’s not appropriate,” Bill’s mom argued back. She kept her eyes on the dishes she was washing.

“Puh-puh-please, mom,” he responded, his voice serious. “It’s important for her to be th-th-there. I don’t want her to feel left out just ‘cause she’s a g-g-girl.”

His mother considered something for a moment and sighed. She pointed a soapy spoon at Bill’s face. “If you can get this place cleaned up in an hour, she can come.”

Bill beamed and moved to hug his mother tightly. She jumped; they hadn’t hugged like this since Georgie’s- she stiffened. 

“Thanks, mom,” Bill pulled away. 

His mother went back to her dishes, lips pressed tightly together, and nodded. 

And so he had cleaned faster than anyone in Derry had ever cleaned before, and then raced back to the Barrens to tell everyone to get their stuff together and meet at his house at five sharp. Six, loud, happy hours had passed since then. 

“I’m pretty sure we’ll all pass on that one, Rich,” Mike added. He’d been the one to suggest the sleepover, and Bill had quickly volunteered his house. 

Richie plopped down on his sleeping bag. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you know I’ll win.”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Beverly hummed. She smiled to herself; seeing all the boys the way they were now, dressed in their pajamas, snuggled into their sleeping bags, made her heart sing with love for them. 

Quiet fell over the group as they struggled to make themselves comfortable in their sleeping bags- although none of them had any plans to go to bed. There was an unspoken agreement between the seven of them, as there always is between young children at sleepovers, to stay awake as long as they possibly could. 

Beverly sat up and leaned against the side of the couch, surveying the pile of boy and blanket below her. “I think Stan’s falling asleep.”

Stan raised his head from where it had been lying, completely still, on his pillow. “I’m resting my eyes.” 

Richie threw his pillow at Stan’s face. “Wakey wakey, eggs and-” his face scrunched up in thought. “Wait, can Jewish people eat bakey? What other breakfast food rhymes enough to fit there?”

“Your mom,” Eddie mumbled from his spot next to Bill. 

“Real creative, Eds. Do you really think Stan wants to eat my mom for breakfast, when he could have all six hundreds pounds of  _ your _ mother? Wait, wait, wait- is she kosher?”

Eddie opened his mouth to reply but was hit by a pillow coming from somewhere on the other side of the room. “Okay, who did that? Was it Richie? I will literally kill you-”

“Beep beep, Eddie.” Beverly interrupted. 

“Now I wish I was sleeping,” Stan rolled his eyes and flopped back down onto his sleeping bag. 

Everyone waited in silence now for someone else to say something, something to get them laughing and keep them awake. 

“Anybody know any scary stories?” Beverly prompted at last. 

“I bet Eddie has a ton,” Richie cackled. “Eds, tell us about the time you walked in on your mom taking a shit.”

“Fuck you, man,” Eddie threw his newfound pillow in the direction of Richie’s voice and grinned when he heard an annoyed “oof.”

Mike sat up, ignoring the bickering between Eddie and Richie continuing in the background. “Do you guys ever think about how our life is kinda like a scary story right now?”

A heavy stillness fell over the group in response to his question as thoughts of dead little boys in yellow raincoats and a shapeshifting monster- thoughts they had been successfully ignoring all day until now- filled their heads. The trees outside the window danced menacingly in the wind, and Bill fought the urge to get up and close the blinds. 

“I-” Stan started, breaking the silence. His shaky voice seemed vulnerable in the dark room. The others shuddered. “I miss going to the Barrens with you guys and playing like normal kids. I miss- I miss feeling safe.”

The others nodded in silent agreement; they missed that too. Want and sadness filled the room now, too, joining the fear. 

“I, uh,” Ben stuttered. “I feel safe with you guys. Even with It out there. You’re my best friends.”

Beverly smiled at him softly from her spot on the couch. Ben was glad for the darkness that hid the blush that rose to his cheeks. 

“I miss my brother,” Bill said, his voice clear but quiet. “I think I might of k-k-k-, I think I killed him.”

There was nothing any of them could say to make that thought disappear from Bill’s mind, no matter how wrong they all thought it was. Instead, they sent out as much silent love as their hearts could hold. Eddie put his hand on Bill’s shoulder. 

Richie tugged at Bill’s foot, which was all he could reach from his sleeping bad. “We’re here for you, Big Bill. No matter what.”

“Yeah,” Ben said. Beverly hummed her agreement. Everyone else nodded. 

Bill nodded at them in return. He turned over onto his side, shaking Eddie’s hand away, and pulled his blanket further around his shoulders.

Richie took a long look at his friend. His friend, their leader, was hurting and there was nothing any of them could do about it. Except maybe kill that fucking clown. But he wasn’t going to bring that up tonight. Instead, he turned to Eddie. “What about you, Eddy Spaghetti? What do you miss?”

Eddie shot a glare at Richie and opened his mouth to say something sharp in retaliation to the nickname before he locked eyes with Bill. Bill’s gaze was serious, and demanded a serious answer. It said:  _ I’ve shared, now you share, too _ . Eddie sighed.

“I, uh-” he began, wracking his mind for something truthful to say. “I guess I miss the way it was before- before I found out all my medicine was dog shit. I kinda, uh,” his voice got quieter. He looked into Bill’s eyes. He was still waiting for an answer, a  _ real _ one. “I kinda hate my mom sometimes. For giving me all that stuff, and telling me I was sick when I wasn’t. But I miss it, too.”

Bill nodded in understanding.

“Shit, man,” Richie whistled. “You’re all kinds of fucked-up.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie shot back. “All you talk about it fucking my mom and I’m the one with the issues here?”

Richie shrugged. “Can’t help it Eds, she’s a beautiful lady.”

Eddie, Ben, and Beverly all opened their mouth to speak. Ben beat them both to it. “You know what? We’re all fucked up.”

“Did you just say fuck?” Stan asked, surprised.

Ben felt his face turn red at the implications of Stan’s tone. “I’ve said it before.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Richie blabbered. “And I’m-”

“Sh-sh-shut up, guys.” Bill interrupted. “I th-think Bev wants to say s-s-something.”

Beverly smiled at Bill gratefully. She looked out at her boys, and they looked back at her expectantly. “I really love you guys.” 

“We love you too, Bev,” Ben said, his voice honest and full of meaning. He felt his eyes well with tears as he said it, and he quickly wiped them away before anyone could see. 

Everyone nodded their agreement.

“Do you miss anything? Anything from before It?” Mike asked softly.

Beverly thought for a moment, her eyes far away. She thought of the girls she talked to at school sometimes, and how they turned to whisper maliciously with their friends as soon as she turned her back. “No, not from before. But when I go home tomorrow, I’ll miss this. I’ll miss hanging out with all of you.”

She was silent for a moment, thinking of the lies she had told to make it to Bill’s house and the trouble she would be in if any of them fell through. “My dad’s gonna kill me if he finds out I was here.” 

There was a long silence as the boys considered the seriousness of her tone. None of them could imagine a parent wanting to hurt their child, especially one as good as Beverly. But the summer had exposed them to the evil of the world, and they were eventually able to accept what she’d said. 

“We won’t let him, Beverly,” Mike said softly.

“Of course not. If we can face a killer clown without crapping our pants I’m sure we could pull the log out of your dad’s ass,” Richie said, his words light but his expression thoughtful. 

“Yeah,” Bill nodded. He sat up to face the group, his eyes scanning everyone’s faces individually. “You can stay a-a-a-at any of our houses if you n-need to. You can even have Juh-Georgie’s room.”

Beverly felt her heart leap in her chest. She loved all of them more than she could possibly say. She wiped frantically at her eyes.

“Aw, Bev,” Ben said. He reached out to pat her leg, but pulled away at the last second. 

“Girls are so gross,” Richie complained affectionately. 

“Beep beep, Richie.” Beverly sniffed. She smiled warmly at him as she spoke. 

“What about you, Mike?” Stan asked. “What do you miss?”

Mike stared at his feet and picked at the edge of his blanket. “I miss my parents.”

Bill nodded. “Me, too.”

Beverly sighed, remembering the early days when her relationship with her father was easy and kind. “Me, three.”

Richie whistled, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group. “Well, this is officially the second most depressing sleepover I’ve ever been to. Wanna go find some puppies to kick to knock it up to number one?”

“Richie’s r-r-r-ight.”

“I am?”

Bill nodded. “This is probably the only sleepover we’ll have with all of us t-t-together. We should have some fun, too.” 

Beverly grinned, their sad conversation forgotten. “I have the perfect idea.”

**Saturday, 12:15 AM**

“Ow!” Richie yelped. “I swear Bev, my eyeball is gonna pop out of its fucking socket.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Beverly sat on her knees in front of Richie, who sat on the toilet. His legs held her in place as she hovered around his face, applying makeup as well as she knew how, considering she never wore it. “Girls everywhere do this all the time and their eyeballs are perfectly fine.” 

“Would you two stop talking?” Stan asked from the edge of the bathtub where he sat carefully shaving his legs. “I’m trying to concentrate here.”

Beverly turned to look at Stan. “You know you’re supposed to put the shaving cream on  _ before _ you start shaving, right?”

Stan looked at the can of shaving cream sitting, untouched, next to him on the tub. “I knew that.” 

Beverly rolled her eyes as Stan sprayed an unnecessarily large amount of shaving cream into his hand. She turned back to Richie and squinted at her work. “How do you feel about eyeliner?”

“Eye  _ what _ ?”

Beverly rolled her eyes again and dug through Bill’s mother’s makeup bag. “Stupid boys.” 

**Saturday, 12:40**

“Wow,” Beverly leaned back to admire her work more clearly. There were obvious problems; she’d smudged the mascara while she’d put on the eyeliner, and the foundation was too tan compared to Richie’s pale complexion. But it was good enough for her first time She nodded proudly, satisfied, and grinned. “Richie, you look hot.” 

Stan looked up from the tub. He’d moved onto the second leg now, and was trying to hurry the process along. Shaving hurt a lot more than he thought it would. “It’s a lot better than what you normally look like, that’s for sure.” 

“Lemme see,” Richie wiggled off the toilet and went to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. His jaw dropped without his permission; he  _ did _ look hot. Gone was the little boy with big glasses and chubby cheeks that old ladies he didn’t know like to pinch. The boy staring back at Richie from the mirror looked like someone people wouldn’t like to mess with, someone strong and confident. Richie smiled, and the boy in the mirror smiled back. “Wowza wowza.”

Beverly pushed him out the door. “Let’s go show everyone.” 

“No, I-” Richie struggled against Beverly’s grasp. Since when did girls get so strong? 

Hey!” Stan yelled after them, only halfway done with the second leg. “Don’t leave me in here alone!”

“Sorry, Stan!” Beverly yelled back over her shoulder. She pushed Richie into the kitchen where everyone else was gathered around the counter. Bill turned to watch their arrival. 

“Could you g-guh-guys quiet d-down? My p-p-parents are- whoa.” 

“Tada!” Beverly sung proudly. She pushed Richie closer to where the four boys stood at the counter. “After hours upon hours of strenuous labor I present to you the new and improved Richie Tozier!”

“Is that makeup?” Ben questioned. He looked at Beverly and wondered what she would look like with makeup on, before quickly deciding that she looked pretty enough without it. 

Bill groaned. “Please don’t t-t-tell me you used m-my mom’s m-makeup.” 

“Sorry,” Beverly grinned, not sorry at all. 

Eddie gaped; Richie really did look new and improved. The new edge to his face was unnerving; he didn’t look like a boy that belonged to the Losers Club. He looked cool.

“Don’t I look fabulous, darling?” Richie put on a feminine voice and hoped it covered up the nerves he felt doing gymnastics in his gut. He flung imaginary hair over his shoulder. 

Eddie blushed and spun back around, turning his attention to whatever the boys had been working on before the interruption. 

“You look great,” Mike gave him two thumbs up and smiled, his face kind. 

“You s-s-smell like my muh-muh-mom,” Bill grumbled. 

“What are you guys doing?” Richie said, eager to take the attention off his new look. He felt the sudden urge to wipe it off, if only to stop his stomach from trying to push its way up his throat. Only the thought of hurting Bev’s feelings kept the makeup where it was. 

Ben grinned, glad to discuss something else. “We’re playing restaurant. Wanna be our first customers?”

“Hell yeah,” Richie grinned, turning to plop himself down at the kitchen table. 

Stan walked into the kitchen, frowning. “I’m bleeding.” 

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Eddie shrieked. “What happened to your legs?”

“Shit, dude,” Richie laughed. “You look like a used tampon.” 

“I cut myself shaving,” Stan grumbled. 

“Oh my god.” Eddie stuttered. “Whose razor did you use? Cause if it wasn’t yours you could get an STD from it-“

“I don’t think Bill’s dad has an STD,” Beverly rolled her eyes. 

“Wuh-wuh-wuh-would you guys s-s-stop talking about my d-dad?” Bill grumbled again. He turned to Stan. “W-we have band-aids under th-th-th-th, under the bathroom sink.” 

Stan mournfully considered his bleeding legs for a moment before heading to the bathroom

“What’s a tampon?” Mike asked. 

“It’s what Bowers shoves up his ass to stop all his bullshit from spewing out,” Richie grinned. 

“Guess that’s why his breath smells so fucking awful,” Eddie mumbled. “It all comes out the other end.” 

The room fell into the special kind of quiet that is always followed by an enormous amount of laughter. Bill shushed them into silence, eyes darting anxiously to his parent’s bedroom door. 

“I can’t find the band-aids,” Stan whined as he returned. “And I’m still bleeding.” 

Six pairs of eyes turned to Eddie.

“What?” Eddie questioned, offended. “Why do you guys assume  _ I  _ have band-aids with me?”

“Well, don’t you?” Beverly asked.

Eddie sighed. He walked forward and grabbed Stan’s hand. “We’ll be back.”

“While th-th-they’re doing that we can s-s-s-serve the fir-fir-first course,” Bill grinned.

“Oh, yeah!” Mike grinned back. He turned to Beverly and Richie, who were both seated at the table. “That one’s mine.” 

Bill picked up a bowl and two spoons and brought them to the table. Ben grabbed two cups and filled them with water and sat one next to Beverly and the other next to Richie. 

“Holy shit,” Richie gagged. “What  _ is _ that?

“Refried beans with honey, ketchup, orange juice, and worse-chester sauce,” Mike stumbled over the word. “It’s considered a rare delicacy in Europe.”

Ben grimaced apologetically at the pair. “We’re not a very highly rated restaurant.” 

Richie looked up at his servers hopefully. “Can we do something else? Like anything. Anything other than this.”

**Saturday, 12:50 AM**

Richie groaned. “Anything but this.”

“We’re playing this because of  _ you _ ,” Mike reminded. He took a couple motels and stuck them together absentmindedly. 

“I take it back,” Richie groaned. “I’ll eat anything if it means we don’t have to play fucking Monopoly.” 

“This is thu-thu-thu-the only game I could f-f-find.”

“I’m having fun,” Stan said as he rolled the dice.

“I wonder why, pork boy.” Richie teased. 

“Why is he pork boy if he  _ doesn’t _ eat pork?” Ben questioned. 

“Cause I said so, Haystack,” he motioned to the bowl of chips sitting by the board. “Hand me some, will ya?”

“Hah!” Stan pumped his fist in the air. “I’ll take Illinois Avenue, please.” 

Ben handed him the card, feeling smart and important under his new position as banker. “Whose turn is it now?”

Richie flopped backwards, landing softly on one of the many sleeping bags surrounding them. “Who gives a shit? There’s gotta be something better we could be doing.”

Ben hummed. “Truth or dare.”

“Nobody ever does the d-d-d, the dares.”

Stan spoke up now, not looking up from where he sat organizing his money. “I hear spin the bottle is fun.”

“Spin the bottle?” Ben questioned. He blushed as Beverly explained the game to him; no way could he ever play that.

“My mom would kill me if she found out I played that with you guys.” Eddie stuttered. 

Beverly grinned nervously. “I like it.”

“You guys realize I was joking, right?” Stan looked up, alarmed. 

“Too late,” Richie quipped. He didn’t feel like kissing anyone here- well, almost anyone. But the obvious gender imbalance offered an opportunity to do something he’d been wanting to do for a while, something he figured he might never get the chance to do again. He jumped up and went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a ketchup bottle. “Pucker-up, buttercups.” 

**Saturday, 1:15 AM**

Twenty-five minutes later, all seven sat in a nervous circle on the living room floor. Stan had made them all brush their teeth, except for Richie who had left his toothbrush at home. 

“Now,” Beverly announced. She held the ketchup bottle in her hands. “We need to establish some ground rules. First-”

“No falling in love with me,” Richie grinned.

“No falling in love with Richie,” Beverly agreed. “Second, no tongue.” 

The boys shuddered. As none of them really knew what tongue meant, they had no problem with that rule.

“And third, if you wuss out you have to eat Mike’s appetizer from earlier.”

The boys shuddered again, this time out of disgust. Mike grinned.

“A-a-all of it?” Bill questioned.

“All of it,” Beverly nodded solemnly.

“Didn’t we throw that away?” Ben asked hopefully. 

Beverly looked at Mike expectantly. “I can always make more,” he smiled. 

There was a moment of grave silence. Beverly broke it by placing the bottle in the middle of the circle. “Who’s first?” 

Stan raised his hand. “I’d like to contest one of the rules.”

Beverly nodded seriously. “Go ahead.”

“The first rule, the one about someone falling in love with Richie, is irrelevant because it implies that someone  _ could _ fall in love with Richie.”

Beverly grinned. “Good point. Rule number one is null and void.” 

Richie leaned forward to spin the bottle. “I’m gonna will the bottle to land on you Stan, just cause you said that.” 

Despite his bravery in going first and the confidence his grown-up, too cool face exuded, Richie gulped as he sat back on his heels to watch the bottle slowly stop in front of- Stan.

“Wait,” Stan protested. “I don’t-”

Richie look around the circle, looking into all the eyes there, seeing if they really expected him to do it- seeing if they would laugh at him if he did. He determined that they did- and that they would not. He leaned forward, puckering his lips and making kissy noises. He stopped an inch from Stan’s face and grinned nervously. 

Stan grimaced and closed his eyes tightly as Richie quickly pecked his mouth. 

The circle applauded as Richie scooted back to his spot in the circle. Stan wiped his mouth, and tried to hide his lack of disgust. Bill looked towards his parents room anxiously. “Guh-guh-guh-guys,  _ quiet _ .”

“Sorry, Big Bill,” Richie, his eyes glazed with a secret, confirmed revelation, elbowed Mike. “Your turn.”

Mike leaned forward without a word and spun the bottle. It landed on Bill. The two laughed nervously and leaned forward to meet in the middle. Right before their lips touched they melted into hysterical laughter, and any tension that had sat in the circle amongst them faded away.

Beverly smiled. “Hurry it up already, lovebirds.”

Smiling brightly, the two pecked each other quickly and resumed their seats. Stan watched Bill sit down and found that he knew who he wanted his bottle to land on. 

“You’re next, bud,” Mike nudged Eddie. 

“Me?” Eddie said, alarmed. He hadn’t really thought he would have to kiss anyone. 

“Unless you want some bean soup, yeah.”

Eddie gulped. He summoned all the courage he had and leaned forward to spin the bottle. Richie.

“Luh-luh-lucky you, Rich,” Bill teased. 

“No, no, no,” Eddie glanced around the circle frantically. “I can’t kiss Richie.”

“I have to agree with Eds on this one,” Richie agreed quickly, his face bright with alarm.

Mike stood up. “Guess I’ll have to go make a double batch-”

Richie paled. He didn’t want to think about how his already upset stomach would react to some of Mikie’s appetizer. “Fine.” He scooted over to Eddie’s spot in the corner. He leaned in slowly, trying his best to ignore the grimace on Eddie’s face. Someone behind them whistled softly, and he cringed. This was not something he could do with an audience, and definitely not something he wanted to do while Eddie was looking at him like- like  _ that _ . 

Quickly and nervously, he grasped for Eddie’s hand and pulled it to his face, kissing it quickly and letting it go. Eddie let it hang in the air for a moment as blush pooled in his cheeks. Richie was suddenly glad for the makeup- perhaps it hid the red flush appearing in his face as well. 

“Uh-” Eddie gaped. 

“That’s it,” Mike announced, standing up. “It’s soup time.” 

**Saturday, 12:30 PM**

The rest of the night passed in a haze of vomit, laughter, and stories told from the heart. None of it consisted of sleep. By morning, their visions were blurry with exhaustion and their heads pounding with too much sugar. 

Beverly was the first to leave, hoping that getting home early would make it harder for her father to tell where she’d been. Then Stan had gone, then Ben. Mike had walked home after that, and then Eddie not long after. And so that left Richie and Bill, old friends, the last men standing. 

“Sorry if you get hell for the makeup,” Richie grimaced. He hoped Beverly hadn’t used too much, and that they had managed to get all the mascara off of the toilet. 

“Y-y-you too,” Bill said seriously, as if Richie’s parents would be able to tell he’d worn some the night before just by looking at him. “Th-th-that really wuh-wuh-was fun th-though.”

“Yeah,” Richie said softly. “It really was.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Writing this was so fun; I love the dynamics between everyone in the Losers Club and hope I was able to write them well! You can find me on tumblr @courageouskaspbrak if you want to chat about the kiddos or send requests (can't promise I'll get to them tho, sorry!) Thanks for reading!


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